John Kriesel enjoying life away from politics

Double-amputee war veteran John Kriesel, right, meets with Vietnam War veteran David Batcher of Ramsey, who came into the office of Veterans Services for Anoka County, which Kriesel runs, to talk about receiving medical care for a hearing issue. (Pioneer Press: Scott Takushi)

Today his life isn't as stressful but just as active. He's a guest talk-show host on KFAN-FM. His book, "Still Standing," has won seven awards and is the 2013 selection for Washington County's "One County, One Book" program.

He loves his job counseling veterans in Anoka County. He spends time with his wife and two boys. He hunts pheasant and deer and coaches an elementary school football team.

Finally, at age 31, he has time to reflect on what has been a remarkable life -- and what he has learned about war, love, politics and thriving through adversity.

HUMVEE HIT

Kriesel's life is split into two halves -- before and after Dec. 2, 2006.

Before, he was the happy-go-lucky kid from White Bear Lake who signed up for the National Guard.

But on that day, he was a soldier riding in a Humvee near Fallujah, Iraq.

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In a flash, a 200-pound roadside bomb sent the Humvee flying and killed two of his friends.

It shredded Kriesel's legs and sent shrapnel into the rest of him. In his book, Kriesel recalled a rescuer who "flips what is left of my left leg up on my chest."

He had only one thought: "This is it. I am going to die, and I will never see my wife and kids again," he recalled, sitting in his comfortable office in Anoka.

Medics scooped him up and put him on an airplane.

Kriesel wears this bracelet honoring his three military buddies who were killed in Iraq. He is now running the office of Veterans Services for Anoka County. (Pioneer Press: Scott Takushi)

On his way to a hospital in Germany, his heart stopped three times.

Over several months, he survived 35 surgeries. On his prosthetic legs, he learned to walk and drive. He finally was transported back to his home in Cottage Grove.

Then the hard part began.

"War is tough," he said. "Coming back is even tougher."

Kriesel faced the grinding reality of what most people call "normal" living. "My wife goes back to work. The kids go to school. Life goes on," he said.

He was tormented by the same dream every night -- the same Humvee, the same blast, the same blood.

A counselor taught him to picture himself stopping 100 meters before the bomb site, and everyone being saved. It helped.

He got an internship with then-Sen. Norm Coleman. In early 2008, he was approached by Republicans who wanted him to run for the state House of Representatives.

To Kriesel, it seemed impossible. He'd never been elected for anything. District 57A was a DFL stronghold that would vote for Barack Obama for president in a landslide that fall.

He turned them down.

"I was just focusing on getting my mind and my family right," Kriesel said.

The Republicans were back two years later, with the same proposal.

"My wife said she knew I would be good at it. And I said, 'Oh, crap,' " he recalled. He knew she was right.

The campaign that followed has become local legend.

WORE OUT A LEG

Few candidates can say they campaigned so hard they wore out a leg -- but Kriesel did.

Kriesel now is running the office of Veterans Services for Anoka County. (Pioneer Press: Scott Takushi)

He had to replace one of his prosthetics. He knocked on most doors in his district, shaking hands, talking, smiling at the mostly Democratic voters.

He often traveled on a Segway, hopping off the two-wheeled gizmo to meet and greet potential supporters.

On one cold day, he slogged from house to house as the wind was driving the rain sideways. He spotted his Democratic opponent driving past -- warm, dry, comfortable. She wasn't campaigning.

"That was the day I realized I would win," said Kriesel. "I wanted it so bad."

After he won, he became the Boy Wonder of Minnesota politics. His straight-talking, gee-whiz style disarmed critics and charmed reporters.

"The media kept on saying, 'You are unlike any other politician,' and that surprised me," Kriesel said. "I said from the beginning I would not let this change who I am."

Kriesel was a Republican who made some Republicans uncomfortable.

He believes in lean government, a strong economy and individual responsibility, all of which are far more important to him than social issues.

"Politicians think they are the moral police, on both sides of the aisle," he said.

He was open to raising some taxes, which Republicans generally try to avoid. He voted against Republican-endorsed budget cuts.

He wasn't comfortable with the party's alliance with the religious right.

"I believe in separation of church and state," said Kriesel. "I am a Christian, but I don't like to advertise it."

He is against enforcing any religious belief by law. He would ask fellow legislators: "How would you feel if the House and Senate had majorities that were different from yours? And their beliefs were forced on you?"

He was willing to talk about expansions of gambling, such as a proposed casino in Block E in Minneapolis.

"We are crazy not to consider it," he said. "I am very pro-gaming."

He vacations in Las Vegas two or three times a year and visits casinos in Minnesota about six times a year.

But the biggest surprise was yet to come.

In a meeting with the editorial board of a newspaper, someone asked whether he favored gay marriage.

"Years before, the answer would probably have been no," Kriesel said.

But at that moment, he said, "I thought that I love my wife more than anything in the world, and if someone said I could love her but not marry her, that would hurt."

He announced he favored gay marriage -- and opposed the Republican-endorsed state constitutional amendment that would ban it. A passionate speech of his was featured in an anti-amendment ad, and the amendment was ultimately defeated.

Despite the fact that he was a rising star of the party, he announced in March 2012 that he would not run for re-election.

"My children asked me not to," he said.

"I could not look them in the eye and say that after all they sacrificed, after me being gone for so long, I wouldn't quit. I wanted them to know when they got older that they could look back and know I loved them."

NOT A HERO

He loves his new job, helping veterans as the director of veteran services for Anoka County.

He knows that the toughest thing is getting them to talk at all. "I say to them: 'Hey, I didn't want to talk about it at first either. But when I woke from my coma, I was forced to talk with counselors.' "

He understands their reticence. It comes from their training. "You have teammates, but you are taught to rely on your inner strength," Kriesel said. "Then you come back from being a combatant and you have to flip that around -- now you need the help."

His history inspires some vets, but he worries that his double amputation may actually discourage others. That's because he has most likely suffered wounds greater than theirs -- yet they are asking him for help.

"They look at a guy like me and say: 'I didn't lose any parts. I should be fine,' " Kriesel said. "They feel like they are being weak, because they know it could have been worse."

He doesn't mind being an inspiration but hates being called a hero on TV and in newspaper stories.

"It doesn't make me mad -- it's not like they are calling me a jerk," he said. "But I was just doing my job. We drove over the bomb by accident."

Last Tuesday, Jan. 22, David Batcher, 65, of Ramsey, walked into Kriesel's office. Batcher, a Vietnam War veteran, has had two bouts with cancer and needed help getting monthly benefits because of exposure to the defoliant Agent Orange.

Kriesel said that the official rules say that to make that claim a veteran must have "walked on the soil of Vietnam." The closest Batcher got was on a ship in a harbor, so his claim was turned down.

That's a technicality, Kriesel said. The ship may have had Agent Orange on board.

He slid some paperwork across the desk to Batcher. "When they get this, they will move forward with your claim," said Kriesel.

He asked Batcher if his treatments at a Veterans Hospital were going well.

"Yes, very," said Batcher. "They really make you feel good."

"Good," said Kriesel. "You deserve it."

Batcher didn't even notice Kriesel's prosthetic legs, which Kriesel treats as just part of his routine.

"In the morning, I take a shower," he shrugged, "then I put on my legs."

"The legs are the least of my concerns," Kriesel said. "There is no way to change that. I can only control my attitude."